I expect to wake up to an alarm, as usual. Instead, I feel soft hands on my arms and I hear a quiet voice with a morning rasp saying my name...

I open my eyes to find dark blue ones staring back at me from behind brown curls. Perhaps even more pleasant, is the smell of food.

"Good morning, baby," Charlie smiles down at me.

He just called me baby.

"Good morning," I say, still sleepy.

"I woke up to my alarm, but you were fast asleep, so I made you breakfast. We will still have plenty of time to get you back to your room before work."

I sit up slowly in bed and I'm brought to face the plates of food stacked high with a breakfast assortment.

Charlie must realize that I am surprised at the abundance of food in front of me, so he begins to explain himself. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just made a bit of everything. I have-"

"Charlie, stop that," I swat at his arm, laughing. He had begun to shuffle the pillows behind me, so that I may be propped up while I consume this massive breakfast, I suppose. "You don't need to wait on me. You're so sweet, and I appreciate it. But you have to let me figure out ways to give back a little, or I'll feel guilty."

He smiles, though it is somewhat defeated, and settles in, using his elbow to sit up. "Fine," he says, "Hand me some eggs and sausages, please."

I comply, and bring the rest of the plates towards us on the bed, so that everything is within reach. "But you're still not allowed to fluff my pillows," I grin, taking my first bite of toast.

I do feel fairly inadequate - I keep my room very clean organized, and I take care of myself, but Charlie keeps an entire house, and takes care of Cooper; I make myself tea and toast, while Charlie makes amazing pasta dishes and multiple-course breakfasts.

After a few moments of silent eating, I think to ask, "Did you notice that I am in one piece? You did actually sleep in here, didn't you?"

He laughs. "Yes. I slept quite peacefully, actually."

"I did, too. Thank you for having me over, I love your house. I miss being in an actual home."

He smiles again and looks down at his plate, in a bashful way.

"What?" I ask.

"I guess it's just nice to hear someone else call it a home. I think of it as my home, but it's nice to hear that someone else sees it that way, particularly you."

When I'm too full for more, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. It feels natural, despite us having hardly even touched prior to yesterday.

"Thank you for breakfast," I say.

He stacks the plates and sets them on his bedside table before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close.

"You could shower here, you know," he whispers near my ear, kissing the skin just in front, and moving his lips down my jaw line.

Finally, I think. He is acting more...uninhibited. Maybe now that he knows I want him too, he won't feel the need to be so careful.

I do love that he is careful, of course. He realizes his effect on me and he sees it as a responsibility, not to be taken lightly. But, I want him to be comfortable knowing that I won't pull away from something slight - he can be himself and act very honestly.

"Okay," I say, "But you have to let me clean up breakfast first."

"You can help," He corrects me with a smirk, pushing himself off the bed with ease.

I gather half of the plates and begin to walk towards the kitchen and I can feel his eyes on me. I look back to find him still smirking as he collects the rest of the dishes and follows.

I face forward again as I pass through the bedroom door, into the hallway. "If you keep that smirk on your face long enough, it will stick, you know."

I hear him laugh lightly behind me.

***

After possibly the most amazing shower I've ever taken, I opt to finish readying for work in Charlie's bathroom, leaving only a change of clothes to take place when I make it back to my dorm. Despite Charlie offering one of his t-shirts, I wear yesterday's outfit for the ride back to campus.

Cooper notices us leaving, and I bend on one knee to say good-bye, scratching under his chin.

"It was nice to meet you, Cooper. I hope I see you again soon." And I sincerely hope that I do. When I stand, Charlie is smiling at me, and he asks if I'm ready.

I've already grown very fond of Charlie's car; it is so much more pleasant to ride in, and it looks cooler, too.

"Do you have a lunch break today?" Charlie asks.

"No, unfortunately. I only work from nine until two and I usually just grab something from the café on my way out."

Charlie nods and runs his fingers over his bottom lip, thinking. He is wearing sunglasses, and his hair is messy, but a good messy. He isn't in workout clothes yet. Instead, he wears a black t-shirt, leaving his tattoos visible, which I love, and jeans. He's also wearing his rings. I suppose I've caused him tardiness on his morning run.

"I want to see you again today, though - if you have time, of course."

He huffs a laugh, "Just call me when your classes are over, all right?"

"Okay," I say. We are nearing the front of my dorm now.

"Thanks again," I say. "I had a lot of fun, and like I said, it was good to be in an actual home again."

He leans over and he kisses me - really kisses me, and when he pulls away, he does so slowly, pausing when our faces are still close.

"My pleasure, Stella," he says, "I'll see you soon."

On the way up to my room, I think of how thankful I am that I spent Saturday getting ahead in all of my classes, I hardly have to worry about my busy week of due-dates, since I've mostly finished everything. I can think of only a few things that I need to do tonight - none of which will take long - so I'll have plenty of time, if Charlie should want to hang out again.

I change my clothes quickly and I gather my things so that I can go straight to class after work. On my drive to the café, I wonder if Charlie will be in at all. Maybe he only ever came in so that we might start talking. I do hope that I see him, though. I already miss his company.

Allie is smiling and waving from behind the counter when I enter Lighthouse, her mouth full of the strawberry smoothie that she's made herself. There aren't any customers in at the moment. I say hello to Jimmy and ask if Mr. Miller is in the kitchen with him.

Allie answers for Jimmy, "Doug had to run errands. I told him we could handle it."

Allie immediately begins telling me how stressed she is about the upcoming weeks of school. She is already a senior, and graduating in December, a semester early. We discuss one of her professors, who is determined to find something chronically wrong with every draft of her most important paper. When I ask her what her paper is over, she tells me that she'd chosen to write about the subject of shame, and how it affects the individual and society.

"How did you choose that?" I ask, thoroughly interested as a psychology major, and human being.

"I just find it interesting. I remember sitting in so many lectures about human psyche and social tendencies and half of the questions that my teachers would ask, 'Why does the individual do this?' 'Why does the individual feel this way?' 'Why is the individual afraid to...?' So many times, I didn't say it, but I thought: shame. Society is absolutely flooded with shame. We are ashamed to feel shame. It keeps us from being productive and it often makes us stagnant, because shame and fear go hand in hand, and they paralyze us."

I sit in my stool, with my arms folded in my lap, listening intently until she finishes. "I think I have a lot to learn in the next three years," I say and she laughs.

"Oh no, Stella, you are so much smarter than most of the people I'm in classes with. You're the only person who seems to comprehend anything I'm saying when I go on my frequent sociological rants."

I am flattered. I look up to Allie's example a lot, and I feel lucky to have met her, as a freshman with similar interests. We then talk about her post-graduate plans - most of which are still up in the air - as we clean various surfaces in the café.

Allie announces that she has to use the restroom, and when she returns a few minutes later, she gives me a look.

"Do you have any tampons?" she mouths, even though there aren't any customers in.

"No," I say quietly.

"Damn," she says.

"Go on and get some!" I tell her, encouragingly. "I will be fine here alone, and those are fairly important when necessary."

She giggles and thanks me, leaving through the front door.

Soon, I recognize a face coming in the door - but it isn't who I'm really hoping to see.

He is a boy from my Philosophy class. He's spoken to me a few times - we sit near each other often because of mutual acquaintances - but I can't remember his name. I recognize him mostly by his straight, super-blonde hair and natural tan that I've envied him for on an occasion or two.

"Hey, Stella!"

"Hi," I say, feeling guilty for my forgetfulness. "How are you? What can I get you?"

"I'm good thanks, I didn't even know that you worked here," He says, and starts looking at the menu behind me.

He orders a rather meaty breakfast - must be on some sort of protein kick. I'm surprise Charlie isn't constantly protein-loading, being a boxer, and all. Maybe that's why his muscles look natural and not protruding or obtuse.

I enter his order, count change, and print his receipt, all the while envisioning Charlie's muscles. I don't notice at first that my classmate is droning on about what a nightmare our Philosophy teacher is - whom I actually find entertaining and interesting.

"Sorry, can I get your name? I'm afraid I've forgotten it," I semi-interrupt him. Not to be rude, and not necessarily in defense of my teacher - though I don't particularly appreciate his negative speech - but I really just need to get his order to Jimmy.

"Justin," he says.

"Justin," I repeat with a nod, writing his name in red ink on the receipt before delivering it to Jimmy. Justin continues talking to me about how much he hates Philosophy.

"What is your major?" I ask.

"I'm pre-med."

"Oh," I say, "Okay."

I wonder if most pre-med students find Intro to Philosophy challenging.

The bell on the front door sounds, beckoning my attention. I grin when I see Charlie. He is now wearing a loose, gray tank top and black athletic shorts. His hair is pushed back again by his thin band, virtually invisible in his hair. He returns a light smile, but he hesitates, slowing as he approaches the register.

"What is your major?" Justin asks.

"Um-" I finally pull my eyes from Charlie, who is now waiting behind him, "I'm a Psychology major," I say.

"Oh, so we'll both be doctors then," he says, smiling at me.

"Stella," I hear Jimmy's quiet voice, telling me that the order is ready. I gather the order quickly, ready to take Charlie's and speak with him.

"Here you go, sir," I say, offering Justin his brown bag with a smile.

He takes the bag and starts to step aside, speaking to me at the same time. "I guess I'll see you in Philosophy tomorrow then."

"Yes! See you then," I say with polite enthusiasm.

As Justin steps to the side, Charlie steps up the register. Justin eyes him warily. He is tall, but Charlie is much taller, and with his strong build and exposed tattoo collection, I wouldn't blame Justin for feeling intimidated.

"Hi," I say, smiling.

"Hey," Charlie says with sparkly eyes and a shy grin.

Justin doesn't speak again, but walks quickly towards the front, fumbling a bit to push it open as he gapes back towards Charlie.

"You know him from school?" Charlie asks.

"Vaguely," I say, "He's in my philosophy class, but we've never really talked. Are you going to have your oatmeal?" I ask and he nods, handing me money. I feel strange taking it now, but the café isn't my business, so I guess I can't be giving out free food every day.

I give Jimmy the order, but he seems to have already started it, glancing at me with his sweet brown eyes and giving me a slight smile.

"Are you going to the gym? Tell your coach I say hello."

"I am, and I will," he says, with his now nearly-constant smile.

"I didn't think you would even be in today. I was hoping - but you told me to call after my classes, so I figured I might not see you."

"Is that why you had Philosophy boy in to see you?" He says it seriously, but laughs immediately after. "I do still like my oatmeal, Stella. Even if I already had a nice breakfast in bed, and even if I get to see you later anyway."

"Well I'm happy to hear it, because taking your oatmeal order has been a café-shift favorite of mine for months."

I hear Jimmy's voice, even quieter than usual, already letting me know that Charlie's order is ready.

"See?" I say to Charlie as I collect the order from the window bay, "Everyone around here is particularly eager to serve you. That's record time on oatmeal." As Charlie takes the bag from my hand, he leans over the counter that separates us, and he kisses my forehead.

"Have a good day, Stella. Call me when you're finished for the day."

"Okay, see you," I say rather clumsily.

As Charlie is exiting the café, Allie enters. She says a simple hello to Charlie while walking past him and then looks to me, thanking me for letting her slip out.

"It's nothing. Anytime," I say.

Charlie is out of view by the time she settles behind the counter with me again.

"Have you ever spoken to that boy before? He is so cute."

I laugh, "Yeah, we've become pretty good friends recently, actually."

"I knew it!" She throws her hands up in excitement. "I always saw him staring at you with his brow furrowed." We both laugh and I picture him with his concentrated stare.

"He never looked mean," she continues, "He kind of resembled me when I stare at a cake after I've already had two slices, but really want another." And I laugh again, harder this time. "What is he like?" She asks, passively biting her short, pink-painted nails.

"He is really interesting," I say, "There is a lot to him, but I already feel like I know him so well, and we haven't been been friends for long at all. He is very sweet and genuine. He's independent, too, and very mature. He is so many things, and nothing that I don't like. Well, he can be a bit sensitive. He's just very hard on himself, I guess. But even that is endearing, because he has so much going for him and he is more humble and careful than anyone I've ever met."

I know that this is what Allie meant by "What is he like?" While most people would have been interested in more trivial things: is he in school, what is his major, why isn't he in school, does he have a job, how long does it take him to do his hair, etc. Allie is like me, and sees those things as secondary.

"That is an awfully thoughtful description for someone who is just a friend, though. Are you two dating?" She asks, her lips forming into an excited grin.

"Um - I'm not really sure, to be honest. We were together last night and I think we will be again tonight. I guess we are? By most standards, yes. I think we've gotten to know each other so quickly though that it would be strange to label anything - it would feel hasty. But I do really like him."

"Yeah, labels aren't that important. What's mostly important is that you're both on the same page, spoken or unspoken. I don't think you have to worry about being hasty though. Lots of people thought that my boyfriend and I rushed into things, and we've been together since we were seventeen, when he moved to my hometown. I'd never had a boyfriend before, but I knew that he was it for me. I don't think it always has to do with age or time, sometimes maybe. But then, there are times when we just know, and by luck and by chance, things just seem to work out."

***

After work, I attend my classes as usual. When return to my room, I decide to call the child psychologist whose name Coach Isaacs gave to me - Dr. Keller.

"This is Dr. Keller. How can I help you?"

"Hello, Dr. Keller. My name is Stella Henry. I'm a freshman phycology major at Clemson. Mark Isaacs gave me your number. I was wondering if you needed any sort of help around your office on Fridays? I could work weekends, too, if you needed me. I'd just like to be exposed to how things are run in your office."

"Oh, Stella! Mark called and said that I might be hearing from you. He told me only good things. Fridays are perfect. My regular receptionist has been wanting to spend the afternoon and evenings with her children on Fridays, so if you're available, we'd love to have you."

"Okay, great," I say, "Shall I interview for the job, then? I could send my resume—"

"No, don't worry about that. Lydia is anxious to train someone, and I trust that you'll do a fine job. Can you start this week?"

"Absolutely," I say immediately. "What time shall I be in?"

"Do you think you could make it in by four o'clock? On Fridays, I sometimes have late appointments, but you should always be able to leave by seven. It's not much in terms of hours, but your help would be greatly appreciated. Mark tells me you're very bright."

"Did he?" I ask, rather rhetorically. "Those hours work fine for me. Thank you so much for the opportunity."

"Thank you, Stella. My receptionist, Lydia, will stay this Friday and teach you how to do everything. You can find clear directions to the office online, but call again if you need anything more. I'll see you Friday."

"See you Friday. Again, thank you so much."

I smile, biting my bottom lip as I hang up the phone.

I can't believe that Charlie's coach basically got me this job. He seemed like a very nice man - albeit quiet and dry, with a rough voice and steadfast demeanor - but he did have an underlying softness. I was glad to see that, too, because I couldn't imagine Charlie training with a coach who was constantly hard on him - Charlie is far too sweet. But for this man to secure me a job after meeting me only once – that is quite the favor.

I decide to call Charlie so that I may get Mark's number to thank him. He answers on the second ring.

"Stella, are you free yet?"

"Hi! Yes, I just need to pack and–" I stop myself. Charlie evidently makes me too comfortable; I've unintentionally invited myself over.

"I mean, what do you want to do? Should I bring anything?"

"Do you want to just stay here again? I can drive you to your first class tomorrow."

"Actually," I say, "why don't I just drive to your house? I don't want you to have to drive me here so early. My class starts at eight."

"Stella, I wake up early anyway. Just let me get you. I can drive you straight to your class in the morning, and you won't have to stop off to park your car."

"Okay, if you insist."

"I absolutely insist," he laughs. "What time would you like to be picked up?"

"Just give me an hour? Oh, by the way, I owe your trainer my new job. How can I thank him?"

Charlie gives me Coach Isaacs' phone number and he agrees to pick me up in an hour. I dial the number as I begin to pack my things. I'll have to do a bit of homework at Charlie's, but I don't think he'll mind.

"Hello," Coach Isaacs' rough voice sounds through the line.